


Here Is My Love Coming Round Again

by spinninginfinity



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinninginfinity/pseuds/spinninginfinity
Summary: All traditions start somewhere. Han and Leia build a holiday.‘It sounds—’‘Laughably Alderaanian?’ she suggested drily.‘Nice, is what I was gonna say.’





	Here Is My Love Coming Round Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cicatrick](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cicatrick).



> Written for the [hanleiasecretsanta](http://hanleiasecretsanta.tumblr.com/) exchange on tumblr, for cicatrick. Happy Holidays!
> 
> Title from "Oh My Love" by LAYLA.

**0 ABY**

Sitting in the cockpit of the _Falcon_ , Leia in the co-pilot’s chair, Han was sort of questioning the act of generosity that had brought them there.

Not wishing he hadn’t done it. It wasn’t like it had just struck him that flying the princess across fifteen sectors in exchange for a beer was ill-advised, financially speaking. 

It also wasn’t like Leia hadn’t given him every opportunity to back out. She’d argued that she didn’t even really need to go to Parsell VI; it was just if anyone so happened to be flying there anyway. That was why she’d been asking around in the hangar bay; it wasn’t that she was hinting, or that she expected anyone to go there specially. On top of that, she couldn’t justify using Alliance money to pay him for a mission that was, in her own words, “silly and sentimental.”

All of this served only to make Han double down, insist he was a very sentimental person, and tell her that, in fact, he did just so happen to be going to Parsell VI for something. And then he went off to find out what that might be. Leia was proud, a trait he shared, and she avoided putting people out to the point of self-sacrifice, a trait he didn’t share but begrudgingly admired, so some kind of excuse was necessary.

It turned out that Parsell VI offered… pretty much nothing, other than a type of distressingly viscous blue wine, of which he now owned several crates. While he’d, of his own free will and for reasons he still couldn’t quite figure out, been handing over hard-earned credits for that, Leia had turned out to be collecting…

‘It’s pretty,’ Han said diplomatically, into the warm silence that had settled in the cockpit.

She looked up from the stumpy, miserable-looking plant she was cradling in her lap. She’d been casting small smiles at it since they’d boarded, like she and the plant had a secret. ‘No. It’s very ugly.’

‘Really? With all these, um… gnarly—’ he pointed at a particularly bumpy growth on one crooked branch, ‘—things?’ He winced, aware he was floundering, but she looked amused.

‘Han, it’s okay. You can say it.’

‘It’s ugly as hell,’ he admitted, with some relief. ‘Could’ve found you a much nicer plant somewhere else, Princess.’

‘Not this plant,’ she said.

Han was good at working with scant information. Sentimental mission to pick up a specific shrub? _Oh, right._

‘Alderaanian?’ he guessed.

She smiled down at the plant—an _esper_ , she’d called it—again. ‘No. But it’s important to Alderaan. Its lifecycle is around a full Alderaanian year; it has a certain symbolic significance.’

It seemed to be one of those times where she wanted to talk about her home world, so Han asked, ‘Symbolic how?’

Leia held the plant a bit tighter, protective even as she shifted in her seat to face him better. So he moved too, to mirror her, show her she could share no matter how silly and sentimental she thought it. 

‘Ah, so,’ she began. ‘On Alderaan you celebrate the end of the year and the beginning of the next one equally. You’re meant to reflect on what you’ve learned, how you can turn your experiences toward personal growth in the coming year.’ Brushing a gentle finger along one twisting branch, she explained, ‘These plants thrive if you nurture them properly. It’s meant to represent how… even if you reach the end of one year and you’re not in a good place, you can still nurture yourself, learn from the negative.’

‘It sounds—’

‘Laughably Alderaanian?’ she suggested drily.

‘ _Nice_ , is what I was gonna say. What’s it called?’

‘Orbit.’ She leaned her head against her seat, closing her eyes. ‘It feels… stupid, in some ways. I’m not sure there’s much to be learned from some of my negative experiences this year. But it felt important, too.’ 

She went quiet, but Han could sense that something was coming, like she was picking her way along a tricky space lane.

Finally, she confessed, ‘I worry all the time that I might lose track of the Alderaanian calendar. Not—’ She held up a hand, though he’d made no move to interrupt her. ‘I know it’s on the holonet. But I’d just feel so… adrift, if I had no idea what time of year it was.’ She opened her eyes, nodding as if resolved. ‘So it’s important. And besides that I always liked it.’

He was about to say that she didn’t need to justify herself to him, but she seemed more to be thinking out loud. So instead he just said, ‘Sure,’ which felt inadequate, but which she didn’t seem put out by.

‘Do you celebrate anything like that?’ she asked. ‘Some Corellian tradition?’

He turned forward again, checking the navicomp. Two hours back to base. ‘Mm, I think there’s something. I never—well. The captain of the ship I grew up on wasn’t real big on festivities, so I never…’ He trailed off, scratching his chin. ‘Think it’s mostly just an excuse to get drunk, anyhow.’

Leia considered him for a moment, then peered around the back of her seat to look at the bottle of wine he’d pulled out of one of the crates earlier, back when he was still holding out hope that it would turn out to be a sound investment somehow. ‘Speaking of. Are you planning on drinking all that?’

‘Leia Organa,’ he admonished. ‘Are you suggesting I drink and fly?’

‘I didn’t mean all of it right now,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Although we’re on autopilot; I can’t see the harm in opening a bottle.’ With mock-solemnity, she added, ‘Since it’s your favorite, and all.’

‘I’m saving it,’ Han said staunchly.

‘Saving it for what?’

‘A special occasion.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, this is a special occasion, flyboy, so hand it over.’

Han eyed the bottle, uncertain that his desire to keep up this ruse extended as far as plying the last princess of Alderaan with potentially lethal alcohol. But Leia had ideas of her own, reaching over and taking the bottle from his hand before he could react, opening it, smelling it, then, nose wrinkled, taking a brave swig.

‘If it turns out that a beer’s-worth of fuel isn’t enough to get us to Parsell and back, you can always use this,’ was her assessment, when she was done spluttering.

Han laughed, taking the bottle from her and passing it from hand to hand. ‘Did you try that just to prove a point?’

‘Do you want to try it just to prove my point?’ she asked, brown eyes amused and challenging.

He held up his hands in cheerful surrender. ‘Nah, sweetheart, you got me.’

Leia sat back in her chair, satisfied, her fingers laced primly together around the plant pot. ‘Thank you.’

‘Hey, I can admit when I’m cornered.’

The humor faded from her gaze a little, but not the warmth. ‘I meant,’ she said gently, ‘for taking me. That was nice of you.’

Han stared at her for a moment, taking a quick gulp of wine. ‘Ah. Not a big deal.’ He shook the bottle. ‘This is disgusting.’

‘Where are you planning on keeping it all, anyway?’ she asked, reaching to take the bottle back from him.

‘Where are you planning on keeping your plant?’ he returned. 

‘My plant is quite a lot smaller than eight crates of bad wine.’ She sipped it again and made a face. ‘My mistake. Terrible wine.’

‘Yeah, but what if we have to evacuate the base? Can’t run around trying to rescue a plant. Although,’ he added, with a gentle kick to the base of her chair, ‘if anyone could, it’d be you.’

‘That’s not the spirit in which you’re supposed to enter the new year,’ Leia chided. ‘I thought of that, actually, but it didn’t seem like a good reason not to get it.’

‘Leave it on the _Falcon_ ,’ Han found himself saying. 

‘Sorry?’

‘I mean, I won’t be leaving without her. And I’ve always got out okay, when we’ve evacuated. And,’ he continued, nodding at the plant, ‘we went pretty far for the thing; I don’t want it abandoned somewhere.’ He avoided her scrutinizing gaze. ‘Just thinking practically, here, Your Highness.’

She eyed him, raising the bottle to her mouth again and then thinking the better of it. ‘Are you going to let me onboard to water it?’

‘Well, I’m a little insulted you think I can’t take care of a plant, but sure.’ He frowned. ‘I always let you onboard.’

‘I know, but I wasn’t sure you were ready to extend an open invitation.’

‘You and Luke once had a meeting at the dejarik table when I wasn’t even here, sweetheart; what’s it matter if I’ve extended the invitation?’ 

To her credit, Leia looked abashed. ‘I’m sorry. We needed somewhere quiet. And I… didn’t know you knew about that.’

‘You think I don’t know if someone’s been on my ship?’ he asked, now truly insulted. ‘You weren’t even subtle.’ 

‘We were extremely subtle!’

‘You played a match and didn’t reset the board!’ He pointed at her. ‘Whoever had the K’lor’slug moved it way too early.’

‘It was Luke. I thrashed him,’ she said, with some pride.

‘I saw,’ he replied, grinning. ‘Anyway. Consider the invitation extended. You could give me a heads up, if, uh. If you can. Or just come in. But don’t move stuff around.’

‘You may have to plant-sit, occasionally,’ she warned.

He wasn’t surprised, this time, when he found himself readily agreeing.

 

**1 ABY**

Over the course of a career in smuggling, Han had become excellent at hovering without looking like he was hovering.

This was easier in some places than in others. But a busy mess hall, where people often had their downtime—played card games, read alone, relived the good missions and tried to forget the disastrous ones—was somewhere you were bound to overhear things, even if you didn’t mean to. 

And he’d been there a while anyway, poring over a holomap and picking at some green gelatinous substance they were serving for lunch. He’d just decided to give up on it when he realized the pair sat at the next table were talking about something that interested him. So really, this was beginner level hovering.

Leia, however, often seemed attuned to him in a way he found equal parts weird and welcome, and so he’d barely been half trying and half trying not to listen in on her conversation with Carlist Rieekan for thirty seconds before she asked what he wanted.

‘Nothing,’ he said, swiveling on the long bench to face them. ‘I was just here.’

She smiled at him over her shoulder, then turned around as well. ‘It’s okay. Han took me to Parsell last year, you know,’ she told Rieekan.

‘I was picking something up,’ Han said hastily, with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘It was nothing.’

‘It was some of the galaxy’s finest wine,’ Leia said, smile widening. He could’ve sworn she gave him the briefest wink—not mocking, but like this was a joke they had between them. 

It was, he supposed. Whenever there was any cause for celebration, one or the other of them would suggest breaking that wine out. _I dunno, Princess. Can we spare any?_ Han would ask seriously. _Oh, no; there’s not nearly enough left_ , Leia would answer, looking at him all pretty and forlorn, and then both of them would snort with laughter and Han would think maybe all those bottles, unopened bar one, were worth it after all.

Rieekan, if he noticed Leia’s look, didn’t say anything. ‘I have to meet with General Dodonna,’ he said, standing to go. ‘I’ll mention your request for leave, Your Highness.’

‘Since we’re talking about it,’ Han said, as soon as Rieekan was out of earshot, ‘you’re getting rid of the ugly plant?’

Leia pursed her lips. ‘It’s called an esper, and I’m not getting rid of it; I’m planting it out somewhere lots of people can enjoy it.’

‘After a whole year taking care of it?’ he asked.

He didn’t mean it to sound like it did, almost plaintive, but her expression softened.

‘This is what’s supposed to happen,’ she said. ‘It couldn’t stay on the _Falcon_ forever, anyway. I’d’ve thought you’d be glad to be rid of it.’

‘I—’ He thought about it. ‘Am?’ But then again: ‘Wasn’t really troubling me.’

‘I won’t have to come barging onto your ship to water it anymore,’ she pointed out.

‘Right,’ Han said. ‘Yeah, that’s been terrible.’

She tilted her head. ‘Han Solo. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten fond of it.’

‘Of the plant? No. Well, kinda; you get used to something that’s taking up half your forward hold.’

‘That’s a ridiculous exaggeration,’ Leia said, rolling her eyes and reaching past him to pick the abandoned green gel block up off his tray.

‘Chewie likes it,’ Han allowed, leaning to one side to let her.

She smiled. ‘Come and help me plant it.’

‘Me?’

‘It would be nice. And it’s a day off.’ She bit into the green thing, the picture of nonchalance, but she was flushing, he realized. ‘You helped me get it; you helped me take care of it the whole year,’ she continued, once she’d finished her mouthful. ‘Don’t you think you’d like to see the whole cycle through?’

He was already decided, but Leia carried on, in a rush and with none of her usual eloquence. ‘I can bake—there’s a flatcake you’d usually make. For the holiday. Only it won’t be exactly the same; it uses a berry that only grew on Alderaan.’ She seemed to deflate as she spoke. ‘I don’t even know if I can make it. My father was always—but I can try it out.’ She took a deep breath—whether fortifying herself after what she’d just said or bracing for the next bite of mess hall food, Han couldn’t tell. ‘Do you want to? We can get through some of that wine of yours.’

‘Where would I be flying you to?’ he asked.

‘You’ll come?’

‘Maybe. If I’m not busy.’

She leaned back against the table. ‘If you’re busy I can ask somebody else.’

‘I can make time,’ he said quickly, with a strange surge of possession for this time with Leia. ‘Is it normally a two-person job?’

He regretted the question even before her smile had faded.

‘There aren’t any rules,’ she said, ‘but… I’ve always planted it out with other people there.’

Han wanted to apologize, but what came out instead was: ‘Hey. Thanks for asking me.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Leia said, and then, in a quick burst like the words were slipping out unbidden: ‘I know it’s all odd, but it’s very special to me.’

He nodded. ‘I know that. ’S’why it’s nice that you’re sharing it.’ He nudged her foot with his. ‘So, c’mon, sweetheart. Not like I don’t know what a cycle is. D’you go and get another plant?’

‘Oh.’ Now she was really flushing. ‘Oh… Han, I couldn’t ask you to give up your space for another year.’ 

‘It’s fine. I never even use that hold.’

The look on her face said she knew he was lying, but she didn’t make the accusation out loud. ‘You take a cutting from the one you plant,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep it again, but if you’re offering, I think you… I think your ship is the best place for it.’

He smiled at her. ‘I think so, too.’

 

**2 ABY**

‘Are you sure it’s all right for this to be here?’ Leia asked.

‘Well, the whole place is illegal, so not really.’ Sprawled on his back, Han felt more relaxed than he had in… years, probably. Sure, the sunlight might be artificial, beaming down from the roof of the huge rejigged cruiser, the gentle breeze generated by machines, but other than that it was every bit an authentic garden on a warm summer’s day, way nicer than anywhere they spent the rest of their time.

Leia, sitting up with her knees against her chest, seemed less serene. It was about the only thing bothering him. ‘You’re sure your friend isn’t going to mind?’

‘Nah, we go way back. Nyela’s pleased, actually. Says you can use the leaves for something?’ He inclined his head toward the esper settled in one of the border beds.

‘If you steep them in hot water, some species find the steam calming.’

‘Ah, yeah. Seems in line with everything else here.’

‘I guess that means parts of this plant will end up all over the galaxy,’ Leia said.

He opened his eyes, lifting his head to look at her. ‘That a problem?’

‘No.’ She finally stopped hugging her knees, lying down on her back next to him. ‘I like it. That’s sort of the point: other people enjoying it. Or… getting use out of it.’

‘Hm.’ He felt about blindly for a couple of the small flatcakes they’d baked the previous night, passing one to her and taking one for himself. They were dense as duracrete, but they tasted all right. Especially when compared to the wine, which they’d brought along more out of a sense of ceremony than any pressing urge to drink it. ‘Nye’s decent,’ he assured her. ‘She’ll look after it.’

He meant it: the clever botanist was one of a fairly small number of people he liked without reservation. Almost everything growing in this garden was illegal in at least part of the galaxy, and he’d smuggled all of it in some capacity. With most clients, he had to avoid thinking too hard about where the spice would end up. With Nyela, he knew: hospitals, care facilities. She spent most of her time cultivating new varieties of her plants, enhancing their medicinal properties, trying to get rid of the nastier side effects. Sometimes that wasn’t even necessary—many of her buyers weren’t human and didn’t react to some kinds of spice the way humans did, but the Empire had made natural substances that were staple parts of their healthcare near-impossible to get hold of, without a thought for their wellbeing. The rarity of some of what she grew didn’t mean a lot to Nye, either. She charged a fair price to those who bought it, and paid a fair price to Han for shifting it. 

And she wasn’t the type to demand I-owe-yous for every favor, hence why she’d agreed to let Han and Leia come and picnic in her garden, even before he’d mentioned that they’d leave her a young esper plant, if she wanted it.

‘Has she had this ship for long?’ Leia asked, looking around the immaculate little space. 

‘Yeah. Used to pick up and move everything planet to planet any time she thought the Empire might be getting too close, but it got to be pretty unsustainable. The climate control unit in here’s way better than the one on the _Falcon_.’

Her face broke into a smile. ‘You don’t have to keep trying to convince me.’

‘Yeah, but. You asked me if I knew anywhere we could go for Orbit and I want you to know you’re in good hands.’

‘I do know.’

‘Still,’ he said lightly, sitting up with his back to her and reaching for the wine. ‘Don’t wanna get myself uninvited next year.’

‘Does that mean you’re in for next year?’ she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

_Huh_. It was a question they asked him a lot, the Alliance, whether he was in or not. Most of them paid attention to his reminders that he wasn’t an official member, and did him the courtesy of checking.

Leia made the (correct, usually, but that wasn’t the point) assumption that he was _in_ on work far more strenuous than doing some gardening all the time. He’d figured the last couple of years that she’d invited him along to this quiet little celebration of hers because he happened to be around. But there was something hopeful in the way she looked at him, something almost akin to the look some of the Alliance generals gave him when they wanted him leading runs, or right at the heart of a fight. Something that said: _A lot of people could do this. It’s you we want._

‘Sure,’ he said, lifting his glass of wine to her. ‘I’m in.’

 

**3 ABY**

Han wasn’t hiding. It was more that he wasn’t seeing certain people by coincidence.

Yes, he thought, adjusting his goggles and crawling back through the open panel in the wall of his ship. That was what this was. 

Anyway, certain people were not seeing him by coincidence right back, which suited Han fine.

Chewie had pointed out that it most certainly still counted as hiding if the not seeing people was a result of Han holing up on his ship and refusing to leave.

‘I’m not _refusing to leave_ ,’ Han had snapped. ‘I have to be here. To do stuff.’

It was a well-won argument.

It turned out, once he started rummaging in the _Falcon_ ’s innards, that there actually were several things that needed looking at, arranged on a scale from “Might cause some issues a little way down the line” to “Should have exploded already according to any reasonable laws of physics”. What he was working on right now fell somewhere in the middle, and he didn’t hear Leia until she was already in the hold that still housed that damn plant. 

He was tempted to ensconce himself in the wall and lay low until she left. But the realization that she must have gone the long way around the ship to steer clear of him sparked such irritation that instead he threw down his welding torch and backed out into the corridor again.

‘I already watered it this morning,’ he said, by way of greeting, when he stuck his head into the hold.

Leia, busy with the watering can that he’d picked up for her, started and scrambled to her feet. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

He folded his arms. ‘It’s my ship.’

‘I meant that I thought you were somewhere else.’

‘’Course you thought that.’

It was as though he was watching himself trying to pick this fight from a corner of the hold, or like all that wounded, prickly energy that had been simmering behind his sternum for a week was threatening to boil over. Or perhaps it was just that arguing felt like it might be easier than walking away from her, or earnestly asking what was wrong.

It was either lucky or unfortunate that Leia was more sensible.

‘I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,’ she told him smoothly. ‘Am I allowed to check on my plant?’

‘Sure, Princess; we have an agreement,’ Han said through his teeth. He’d sort of thought the agreement was that the esper was _theirs_ , but it seemed that a lot of things he’d thought before Ord Mantell had been wrong. So. Whatever. It was fine.

Except he was pissed she’d decided it was still okay to just walk onto his ship when she’d barely spoken to him in the week since that in-every-way botched mission, and pissed she’d even imply that he’d have a problem with her just walking in when he’d already told her it was fine. He wasn’t about to go back on his word because she was being weird with him. And what did she think was going to happen otherwise? That he was just going to look after her shrub for her? Or that he was going to deny her entry and then neglect it?

He gave his head a little shake, aware that being angry with Leia over several contradictory hypotheticals wasn’t totally fair.

‘I have a lot of stuff to do,’ he said. ‘So just… hurry up, all right?’

And now she was getting more annoyed at him, telltale plant of her fists on her hips, though her tone stayed even. ‘You know, Han, if this isn’t working for you, I can move it somewhere else.’

‘When did I say you should do that?’ he demanded.

‘It’s just you don’t seem very happy,’ she said, sweet and seething.

‘It’ll freeze!’ he said, now a bit outraged on behalf of the esper. ‘Where else would you keep it on this ice block? I read about it; it’s a miracle it’s made it this long!’

Leia’s hands fell back to her sides. ‘You read about it? When?’

He’d been expecting something about it being a miracle it had made it this long with him partly responsible for it, and took a second to regain his footing. ‘I dunno. Few times, here and there. It’s not a big deal; I research all my jobs.’

It was a moment before she responded. ‘This isn’t a job. I’m not paying you.’

‘Like I don’t know that,’ he muttered.

Her face turned stony. ‘Well, if you want more room for whatever pays the highest these days, I’m sure I can figure something out.’

Stung, Han said, ‘Maybe you should, Your Worship,’ and went off to bury himself in repairs again.

He half expected to find the hold empty after she left, but the esper was still there. 

He couldn’t bring himself to have any uncharitable thoughts about it anymore. By now he knew that she was right about it thriving if you tended to it, even without natural daylight, but he still felt soothed by the cheerful little yellow flowers that had unfurled out of their tight buds since just this morning. Must’ve been waiting for Leia.

It must also be time to plant it out soon, he figured. She’d have to get some other sucker to fly her somewhere this year.

He was turning to leave when he noticed she’d left something behind: a small white box half-hidden behind the plant pot. Because obviously he had nothing better to do than run around after her, returning her stuff.

Only she was Leia, and she wouldn’t be Leia if she didn’t leave him baffled as to how she felt about him (or how he felt about her, at least right now), so the box was tagged with his name and contained two of what appeared to be her best effort yet at those flatcakes of hers.

He told himself he was putting them aside because he didn’t need her… what? Charity? But the truth was he hoped her intention had been to share them.

(Days later, crawling through the Anoat system, she’d express how glad she was that she didn’t move the plant off the _Falcon_ , and he’d suggest they take it somewhere after Bespin. He’d stalled paying off Jabba this long; a little longer wouldn’t make much difference.

‘Start the year right,’ he’d say.)

 

**4 ABY**

Leia realized, as she packed soil into the newest planter, that she was pushing it. Several months past the end of the last Alderaanian year, the esper was beautiful but felt stretched, its flowers blooming so bright and large now they were beginning to droop. The thought of it dying because she hadn’t taken proper care of it was unbearable, but so was the idea of planting it out, per tradition, without Han there to do it with her.

Luke had offered to go somewhere with her. So had a couple of the Alderaanians she was closest with, though she knew many from her homeworld had already held celebrations; she’d been along to one, still anxious to mark the official date in some way. She had no problem with the thought of other people joining in with her own late recognition of the holiday. Just… not yet.

‘Perhaps it would be good for you,’ had been Carlist Rieekan’s careful remark, when he’d asked her to hang back at the end of a meeting, and she’d turned his offer to accompany her down as gently as she could. ‘After all, the holiday is about moving forward. Captain Solo wouldn’t want you to give up your traditions, I’m sure.’

‘I don’t have any intention of giving them up, Carlist,’ she’d said. ‘I didn’t give them up, after Alderaan. They just changed.’ What she’d said next had felt like such a confession, even though everyone knew by now about her and Han, that she’d hesitated. ‘Now, when I think about Orbit, I think about it with Han, with terrible baking and terrible wine neither of us really wants to drink and that he only bought to stop me feeling bad about making him go out of his way.’

Rieekan had given her a wry smile. ‘I expect also to hide the fact that he was doing something selfless.’

‘Yes, that does seem plausible.’ She smiled brightly back, tamping down the dull wave of heartache. ‘Anyway. I had to accept that Orbit was never going to be the same again, after the Disaster. But all our intelligence is telling us Han’s still alive. I hope you can understand that I’d rather not give up on that just yet, either.’

He’d looked at her for a moment and then nodded. ‘Of course I can. Yes.’

No one had tried to suggest she plant the esper since, and Lando had a new lead on Han’s whereabouts. He’d be back, she told herself. 

As she sprinkled plant food into the soil, the plant shed a broad green leaf, like some kind of countdown. 

 

**5 ABY**

For the third time in as many minutes, Leia scanned the throng of beings gathered in the east wing of the Coruscant Museum of Galactic Cultures.

She wasn’t concerned about Han, but it was rare for him not to stay close to her at events like this. He had no practical issues with talking to the galaxy’s elite—you didn’t become one of the best smugglers around if you lacked the ability to charm. He just didn’t want to.

‘At least in my line of work, people are honest,’ he’d told her, when they’d taken a break from the first round of icy negotiations after Endor, and she’d laughed and laughed and then expressed wholehearted agreement with his point. 

But she was better at smiling and nodding at wealthy, connected humans who swore up and down that they’d always been all for the Alliance but had never made the smallest move to help them, so Han’s tactic was to let her do the diplomacy bit while he stood and glowered.

Tonight, though, he was nowhere to be seen.

She felt bad for thinking so longingly of the _Falcon_. This evening wasn’t about posturing, as far as it could avoid being about that. It was about unity, moving forward as a galactic society under the banner of the New Republic. And it wasn’t as though Leia had a problem being here, specifically; she liked the space, especially for an event like tonight’s. 

Though everyone kept saying this gala wasn’t about politics, they’d deliberated at length over where to hold it. The senate building and palace still represented cruelty and naked corruption to most of the galaxy. The Galactic Museum was out, too—the decisions made by Imperial curates these past years hadn’t exactly been objective, and it would take years more to restore all that had been hidden or thrown out, if it ever could be.

But this smaller museum, with its sweetly idealistic mission of friendship and harmony on proud display in the lobby, was perfect. It hadn’t been significant enough to the Empire for them to either destroy it or keep it going with an Imperial veneer. It had just stayed still, and it seemed an excellent place to start again. 

It was one of the things that made her wish her parents could be here to see this.

‘Hey,’ Han said from behind her.

She turned to smile up at him. He’d stubbornly stayed out of dress uniform, though had agreed to wear a new shirt. This was covered now with his usual jacket, and his cheeks were flushed with cold. ‘Where did you go?’

‘To get you something,’ he said, arms sliding around her waist.

In kind, hers twined up around his neck, and she drew him into a light sway to the music playing from the other side of the room. ‘For Orbit?’

‘Do these people realize they’re getting in the way of our holiday?’ Han groused. 

‘We’ve shown ourselves to be flexible with when we celebrate,’ Leia reminded him. 

‘I’m just saying. Could’ve had this little party any time.’

‘“This little party” is about heralding a new era of democracy, peace and cooperation,’ she said sternly. ‘It’s very much in the spirit of Orbit.’ 

He gave her a fond smile, brushing his fingers against a strand of hair that had come loose from her braid. ‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘Though it’s true the security measures aren’t quite this rigorous,’ she admitted. ‘It’s all very well to talk about peace, but when there’s a droid scanning the food for poison every five seconds…’ 

‘It’s a good event,’ he told her. ‘You’re doing fine, Leia. We’ll get there.’

She stroked a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. ‘I know. But at home the food is upfront about its problems.’

‘See, sweetheart. ’S’all about honesty.’

She stopped moving and chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Why don’t we go home?’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Come on. No one will even notice; there are plenty of people here.’ Her hand travelled down his arm, fingers sliding through his. ‘Let’s go.’

Han, if he had any objections, didn’t voice them.

‘I made a start on the flatcakes this morning,’ he told her, as they made their way to the exit. ‘And the wine is chilling.’

‘Do you think that’s going to improve it?’ she asked, very seriously.

‘Not a damn bit.’

‘Is that what you meant? When you said you’d got me something?’

‘Ah. No.’ He released her hand, stopping out in the lobby and rubbing at the back of his neck. ‘It’s… okay. I didn’t get it, exactly; that was… false advertising. I just… brought it here?’

‘Whatever it is, security didn’t confiscate it, so I’m assuming it’s fine.’

‘Yeah. Well.’ He reached into his pocket, withdrawing something. ‘I know we’re not meant to take a cutting until later, but…’

She took the small glass dome out of his hand, examining the green sprig inside. ‘The cutting’s also supposed to be a little bigger than this,’ she pointed out gently.

‘It’s not for planting.’ He faltered. ‘It’s—listen. It’s stupid. It’s a thing on Corellia I heard about.’

She looked up at him, startled. She knew Han felt very little about the planet he was born on, but had always thought it was more a frustrated disconnect than genuine lack of interest. ‘Then I want to hear about it too.’

‘There’s this… festival,’ he said, spurred by her encouragement. ‘They hang plants in the doorways and people are meant to… I dunno, kiss under ’em?’ Even in the dim lobby light, she could see a dull flush creeping up his neck. ‘Thought it kinda suited us, since we already have a plant.’

‘And we’re quite fond of kissing.’ She caught his hand again and pressed her lips to the backs of his knuckles, to illustrate.

‘And that. So, I figured—’ He gestured at the plant in her hand. ‘Seemed sweet, when I thought of it, but—I—just… huh.’

‘What?’ she asked, alarmed; his expression had gone from mild embarrassment to mortification.

‘I _just_ realized maybe I’m committing some kinda sacrilege?

She shook her head. ‘Sacrilege how?’

‘It’s your holiday. Probably don’t want me using your plant for—’

‘It’s ours,’ she said, pressing the plant in its little dome back into his hands. ‘It’s ours, all of it. And I love that you’re adding to it.’ As he held it, she twisted the dome until it came away from the base. ‘We have nothing to hang it with.’

Warming again to the idea, Han took the little cutting carefully between his fingers and held it over her head. ‘How’s this?’ he asked.

She beamed up at him. ‘Perfect,’ she said, and kissed him there in the doorway of the museum, that place weighted with the past and brimming with hope for the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
